Sherlock - Drabbles
by Rodent2000XD
Summary: Just some random drabbles, no JohnLocks, as I am a very anti-Johnlock person. XD Any suggestions are welcome!
1. Snowball

**A/N: Just some random Sherlockian drabbles XD. Any suggestions are welcome, and please drop me a review!**

**DISCLAIMER: This is actually based of someone else's Jeeves and Wooster drabble, I just changed it to be more. . . Sherlocky. Hope the author doesn't mind! Really sorry to have to copy your idea like this, but I just thought it was to brilliant to ignore. XD**

**1: Snowball**

I was just coming back from buying some milk when it first happened. The snowball shattered at my feet, scattering snowflakes all over the pavement. I looked behind me, but saw no one there.

The second time, I had just exited the flat, and a blob of white whistled past my right ear. It hit Anderson, who was waiting outside, in the back, and I was sure I heard a snigger somewhere near.

The third time, I might of deliberately stood still, allowing the snowball to hit me in the back of the head. There was a cry of success from somewhere close by.

As I entered the flat that day, I was sure I saw Sherlock hastily washing fragments of snow of his hands. . .


	2. New Coat

**2: New Coat**

**A/N: This one just popped into my head; hope you like it! ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

"John, I was in the middle of an experiment; why do I have to come?"

"Because it's your coat, Sherlock. If I pick one, you'll just complain. What about this one?"

"No."

"This one?"

"_No_."

"Why not?"

"It's too long."

"How about this?"

"Wrong colour – you seriously think that a red coat would match my blue scarf?"

"You could get another scarf."

"No – I like my scarf, and red coats are impractical; I would be so easy to see wearing one of those."

"Fine. How's this? It's just like your old one, identical, I would say."

"Certainly not! Do you want me to be the laughing stock at Scotland Yard or something?"

"What do you mean?"

"John - have you not noticed that we are in the Women's Section?"

"I know that - I'm looking for a coat for you, remember, so where else would I be?"

"What are you implying. . .?"


	3. Spiked

**3: Spiked**

**A/N: This one is dedicated to MaidMarian17, who gave me the suggestion. Hope you are satisfied, XD. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

It wasn't April Fools or anything, Mrs. Hudson just thought it would be funny. As she prepared the tea, she wondered briefly what their reactions would be. Sherlock would probably realize that something was up straight away, but it was worth a try. John would take a sip, make a face, then try to hide it and just be polite. Still, their landlady added a large amount of chilly sauce to both their drinks, and entered the living room with the cups on a tray.

"Here you are, dears," she said brightly, laying the tray on the coffee table, "I've made you some tea."

"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," said John, looking relieved, "I could do with a cup of tea."

Sherlock said nothing, as usual, and took a cup from the tray. John did the same. Sherlock drank his first. At first there was silence, then he choked. He slammed the cup back onto the table, very nearly breaking it, and rushed to the sink. There was the sound of him spitting out the tea, then running water as he drank hastily from the tap. John was staring at his flatmate, the cup had nearly reached his lips, but he had stopped as soon as Sherlock had choked.

"Something up, dear?" said Mrs. Hudson casually.

Sherlock turned off the tap, and straightened up, looking furious.

"I needed the chilly sauce for an experiment!"


	4. Password

**4: Password**

**A/N: This one is dedicated to Kami74, who gave me the suggestion. Hope you are satisfied, XD. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

Sherlock and his deductions always annoyed John, especially when they were about him. Sometimes he wondered how he managed to live with the man, with him always leaving body parts in the fridge. Still, one time, Sherlock went to far with his deductions, and John had never been more embarrassed. Unfortunately for him, it was also at a crime scene, so Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson were all there, listening in – not that Sherlock bothered to lower his voice.

The consulting detective had noticed that John had changed the password for his laptop; the ex-army doctor had had enough of Sherlock always managing to guess the password, so he had chosen something that no one would ever guess – at least, that's what he thought. But when Sherlock brought up the subject at the crime scene in front of all the others, he realized that he had thought wrong.

John was just discussing the bruising around the head of the murder victim with DI Lestrade, when Sherlock approached them.

"Did you get anything?" asked Lestrade hopefully. Sherlock had a wry smile on his face.

"Naturally," he said, the smile still there, "would you like me to share it with you, Lestrade?"

Lestrade frowned, "of course I want you to share it – we need to find out who the killer is!"

Sherlock called Anderson and Donovan over, to everyone's surprise. "I have news," said Sherlock, an odd glitter in his eyes, "that everyone will want to hear, I'm sure. . ."

"Get on with it then," said Anderson impatiently, his arms folded.

"John is in love!" said Sherlock loudly.

John's face flushed, and he seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, "how did you. . .?"

"I can guess your passwords, John," said Sherlock, smirking, "even if you think I can't, I will always be able to get them."

"Who is it?" said Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan, eagerly.

"Me," said Sherlock simply, and with that, he turned, and walked away, leaving the three of them gaping in shock.

"It was just a password," said John hastily, before following after Sherlock, "I was hoping he wouldn't guess it, that's all!"

"So, you really thought that I wouldn't be able to guess something as. . . extreme. . . as that?" said Sherlock smugly.

"You just had to show off, didn't you?" said John coldly.

Sherlock shrugged, "just be thankful that I didn't tell them the whole password."

"Go one then."

"What?"

"Tell me the password, if you dare say it out loud. . ."

"I Love Sherlock Holmes And His Deductions."


	5. Posted

**5: Posted**

**A/N: This one is dedicated to Kami74, who gave me the suggestion. Hope you are satisfied! ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

"You didn't have to show everyone, John!" said Sherlock angrily, scowling at the ex-army doctor's laptop.

John shrugged, "well, I had to post something, we haven't had a case for about a week, and readers are getting bored!"

"But why _that_?"

"They liked it," said John truthfully, "in fact, a few of them said they printed out the picture and framed it."

"What?! That picture? Of me? With the hat?"

"Yes, Sherlock – they loved it!"

"Who are these people. . .?" Sherlock muttered, snatching John's laptop and scowling at the screen, "five hundred and seventy six views?!" he shouted.

John was looking very pleased with himself, "oh, and by the way, everyone at Scotland Yard has seen it too."

Sherlock slammed the laptop back onto the table, and stormed off into the kitchen. John looked at the screen. The picture that had brought fame to his blog was still there; the photo of the world's only consulting detective staring into a microscope – the dreaded hat on his head.


	6. Soup

**6: Soup**

**A/N: This one is my own idea, hope you like it! Sorry about the wait for this chapter. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

"Not that much pepper!" said John, hastily snatching the pot out of Sherlock's grasp, and placing at safely back onto the shelf.

"I don't see why I have to learn how to cook, John," said Sherlock, scowling at the soup, "when you can cater for me."

"Yes, but what if I wasn't - " John began.

"You're leaving?" said Sherlock abruptly, staring at the ex - army doctor.

"I never said that," said John quickly, "I was just saying, that if I wasn't here at the time. . ."

"I don't need food, any how," muttered Sherlock, returning his gaze to the soup, "eating is boring."

"Yes, you do, Sherlock," said John impatiently, frowning at the detective, "you're not a machine."

"What's this?" Sherlock was holding something in his hand – it was red and wrinkly looking, and the detective was frowning at it.

"That's a dried chili, Sherlock," said John, taking it from him and returning it to the jar it had come from.

"Should we put it in?"

"No."

"Oh."

"What do you mean, 'oh'?"

Sherlock avoided John's gaze, "never mind. . ."

John narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, "Sherlock," he said sternly, "what did you do?"

"I might of put in a. . . few. . . of these dried chilies in the soup when you left the kitchen for a moment before. . ."

John groaned, "what did you do that for?"

Sherlock looked some what offended, "I thought they were dried sausages!"


	7. Marker

**7: Marker**

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to Kami74, who gave me the suggestion. Hope you are satisfied! ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

John was fighting a serious impulse not to laugh. He had often wondered what Sherlock would like with a mustache and glasses, and now he knew – Sherlock had been in his mind palace when John had decided to put the practical joke plan he had had a while ago into action. The consulting detective had been so deeply in his mind palace, that he didn't even notice when John drew a mustache and a pair of glasses on his face with a black marker, taking a picture and posting it onto his blog directly afterwards. John had frozen halfway through drawing the mustache when Sherlock's upper – lip twitched, but he was still once more through the rest of John's prank.

When Sherlock had finally exited his mind palace, John had cleared away all the evidence, and they were informed that they were needed by Lestrade. They grabbed their coats, hailed a taxi, and were driven to the crime scene, Sherlock wondering why the driver had given him such an odd look. Only when they reached their destination did Sherlock put the question out of his mind.

Lestrade started walking over to them, but stopped dead in his tracks when he caught sight of Sherlock's face. A smile spread slowly across his face, and next thing Lestrade was bent double with laughter.

"John," said Sherlock slowly, "what's he laughing at?"

"I have no idea," said John, trying to sound confused and not laughing at the same time, "I think he finally cracked, that's all."

Only when everyone else started roaring with laughter did Sherlock start getting suspicious. His upper – lip was also starting to itch slightly.

"Is there something on my upper – lip, John?" he asked finally, staring round in confusion at the sight of all the police laughing, "it's itching slightly."

John couldn't hold it in any more. His eyes lit up, and he collapsed against the police car, a huge grin spreading across his face.

"Look into the glass, Sherlock," he choked through his laughter. Sherlock frowned, and took a step closer to the window. When he saw his reflection, his eyes widened, and he stared. Everyone had stopped laughing now, and was waiting for his reaction. They were all shocked when he started laughing himself.

"What a coincidence," was all he said, turning to face John.

"How do you mean?" asked John, frowning.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I'm amazed you hadn't noticed already John. Roll up your left sleeve."

John obliged. "Oh you bastard. . ." he groaned, staring down at his arm, "you. . ."

"What's wrong with having 'The Science Of Deduction' written on your arm, John?"

**A/N: Yeah, I know having the science of deduction written on your fore-arm isn't that bad, but I couldn't think what else. My excuse is writer's block! Remember to drop me a review, and give me any suggestions you may have, please! I'd love to hear them, and all criticism is welcome-as long as it's not to offensive, that is. XD**


	8. Infant

**A/N: This chapter is dedicated to 13lue13erry, who gave me the suggestion. Hope you are satisfied! Sorry, I might have changed it a bit. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

**8: Infant**

"When was the body found?"

Sherlock walked around the body of the twenty seven year old female, his eyes narrowed as he made his deductions.

"About four and a half hours ago, by a woman walking back from the pub late last night," Lestrade answered, watching the detective.

"Any witnesses?" asked Sherlock, without looking up, "I need to question them."

Lestrade shifted from foot to foot, "well. . . not really, no," he said awkwardly.

Sherlock frowned and raised his eyes to Lestrade, "what do you mean, 'not really'?"

"The only witness was the victim's son -"

"Then where is her son? As I said, I need to question all witnesses," said Sherlock impatiently.

"Found anything?" John had arrived at the crime scene.

"I am about to question the victim's son," said Sherlock, looking coldly at Lestrade, "I think I have deduced all I need about the murder victim."

"Look, Sherlock. Questioning the victim's son will be difficult," said Lestrade slowly.

"Why?"

"He's only one year old!"

"So? I'm sure I'll be able to get something from him," said Sherlock smoothly, "where is he?"

Lestrade jerked his head to a man of similar age to the victim, "with the father, by the police car."

"Thank you, Detective Inspector," said Sherlock, nodding at Lestrade, "come along, John, I need my blogger at my side."

"Oh, alright," John followed Sherlock to the man by the police car, the one year old safely in the father's arms.

"Now then. . ." Sherlock seated himself directly opposite the child, his hands lay in front of him on the table. John watched with amusement from the corner – Sherlock looked extremely intimidating sitting there with his tall, looming figure. "Tell me exactly what you saw."

The child did nothing, merely looked up innocently from where it sat. John bit back a laugh at the already frustrated look on Sherlock's face – he really had no idea about children. . .

"Well?" Sherlock pressed, scowling at the infant, "what. Did. You. See?" The child made an odd gurgling noise and waved it's hands. "Talk sense man!" Sherlock snapped, glaring at the child, "what on earth is that supposed to mean? Is it a code?"

John felt that he should intervene, "Sherlock, he's only a year old – he probably can't even talk at all!"

"Maybe, but he might be hiding something from us!"

"Like what, exactly?"

"Well, he was the only witness, so how should I know?" Sherlock continued to glower at the child. A giggle escaped it's lips. Sherlock froze. "What? John! John, it's making strange noises!"

"It's laughing, Sherlock," explained John, a broad grin on his face.

"Tell it to stop, I don't like it. He's definitely hiding something, I can see it written all over his face." Sherlock actually looked somewhat alarmed as he stared at the laughing child seated opposite him.

"I could never se you as a father, Sherlock," said John sniggering.

"Oh? Then what do you see me as?"

"Oh, I don't know. . . Some kind of crazy uncle, I suppose. . ."


	9. Reverse

**A/N: Just a random little idea of mine, hope you enjoy! Please read my other fanfiction, 'Another Deductionist?'. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

**9: Reverse**

I was the quiet type, and always have been. I have left the army, and now live in a flat in central London with my working partner. He is a consulting detective, going by the name of John Watson, and his deductions never cease to amaze me, even after living with him for three years. I like to blog about the things that he does, the cases he works on, and always solves. He does, of course, have his own website, but he doesn't post things often. It's an interesting life, with John Watson. . .

. . . Yet something just isn't right. . .

**A/N: Just a ficlet, really. XD, it would be very annoying if you didn't get it. . . (lol!)**


	10. Television

**10: Television**

"Why so many engagements?! What was P.G. Wodehouse thinking?!"

John hid his tired face in his hands and groaned. He had been trying to write an important entry for his blog about Sherlock's last case, but was struggling with Sherlock shouting at the programme he was watching.

"Do you think you might be able to keep it down, Sherlock, please?" he moaned, staring at the computer screen. He had written only four lines, and they weren't exactly the best. "What are you watching, anyhow?"

"Jeeves and Wooster," Sherlock replied, scowling at the TV, "I don't know why Wooster always has so many engagements all the time. . ."

"If I remember correctly, that was his Aunt Agatha's doing," said John, frowning, "what about Jeeves?"

"Jeeves is a very knowledgeable person, yes, and has always has a plan," said Sherlock, shifting slightly in his seat – he was perched in the armchair, he knees drawn up to his chin, and his arms around himself, "Stephen Fry is a very good actor."

John coughed, "did you really just compliment someone, Sherlock?" he said, disbelievingly.

"Yes. In a way, I suppose I did – you don't have to sound so surprised, John, I compliment you all the time. Well, not to your face, anyhow."

"Oh?" A grin spread across John's face, "and what do you say?"

"It doesn't matter – oh come on!"

"What?"

"As if they would really jump out of a boat!"


	11. Weakness

**A/N: Another random idea of mine – this one is a little more serious than the others. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

**12: Weakness**

"Sherlock?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock made an odd grumbling noise. He didn't look up from his microscope at John, who was standing in the doorway. Sherlock studied some vials of liquid careful in the light.

"Why _do _you hardly ever eat?"

Sherlock fumbled with one of the vials. He tried to sound calm as he answered, "I've told you before, John – digestion slows me down."

John rolled his eyes, and took the seat opposite Sherlock as he did so, "Sherlock, you don't eat even if we don't have a case – please give me the real answer."

Sherlock at last looked up from his microscope. John thought he might have seen sorrow in his eyes, but it vanished as soon as the idea entered his mind. "Because I'll throw up if I do," Sherlock answered, the smallest of tremors in his voice, "and I always do, no matter how little I eat."

"What?" John was. . . well, surprised. Not major shock, of course, but still. . .

"It started when I was seventeen, and had been going on ever since," said Sherlock, his usual impatient tone back once more, "and I've been living with it for the whole time. Happy you've got the answer now?"

Sherlock returned to his microscope.

"You could have told me before, you know," said John softly.

Sherlock shuffled in his seat. "That would be a sign of weakness. . ."


	12. Branded

**A/N: Another random idea of mine, I keep getting them! This is a pirate-y one, think of A Scandal In Belgravia, XD. Sorry, I know nothing about nicotine patches, so please – don't hit me, XD. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

**13: Branded**

"When was the last time you had a blood test, Sherlock?"

"Twelve years ago. Why?"

"_Twelve years_?" John gaped at Sherlock, "well, luckily enough, I'm a Doctor."

"And?"

"I can do it for you."

Sherlock sighed, rolled up his right sleeve, and held it out to John, without looking up from his microscope.. He really wasn't in the mood to bother arguing, he was too busy with the current experiment.

"No, Sherlock – other arm, if you wouldn't mind," said John, laying the needle he had on the table. Sherlock made an odd, strangled noise in the back of his throat.

"Wh – what?"

John frowned. "The other arm, Sherlock."

"No, my. . . my nicotine patch is there." Sherlock tried to think of ways to get out of it as fast as he could.

"Sherlock – are you thinking of excuses?" Sherlock looked up to see John with a wide grin on his face.

"No!" said Sherlock, answering a little to quickly.

"Then your left arm, if you wouldn't mind," said John, picking up the needle once again. Grumbling, Sherlock rolled up his left sleeve.

"See? The nicotine patch is - ouch! What was that for?" John had taken off the nicotine patch, and was now staring at Sherlock's fore – arm.

"Sherlock. . ." he said slowly, "when did you get this. . .?" he held Sherlocks fore – arm in his hands, and traced the letter 'P' with a soft finger. It had been burned into his skin, and John could tell that it had been refreshed, as it were, quite recently.

Sherlock was staring at the burn as well, shaking his head ever so slightly. "I was branded," he said, and he pulled his arm away, rolling his sleeve back down.

"Pirate. . ." John whispered, still beside Sherlock.

"What?" Sherlock snapped, staring at the army doctor.

"Nothing, I just -"

"Ha! Mycroft told you, didn't he?"

John gave in. "Yes. When did you get it?"

Sherlock drew a long, shaky breath. "When I first met Moriarty as a child."


	13. Rubix

**A/N: ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

**14: Rubix**

"Bored. . ."

"Yes, Sherlock, I know."

"BORED. . ."

John sighed and threw down his paper. He rose from his seat, and put on his jacket. "I'm going out, I'll be back soon."

"I got you a little something from the store, Sherlock," said John as he walked back into the flat. Sherlock looked up at John from where he was lying on the sofa.

"What?"

"It's called a Rubix cube, a little problem solving thing. Ever heard of them?"

"Yes," said Sherlock, still sounding bored.

John mixed up the colours for the next minute, then handed the cube back to Sherlock. "You know what to do?"

"Yes."

"Well, have fun." John left Sherlock on the sofa, and walked back into the kitchen to make tea. His back had been turned for about thirty seconds, when there was a dull, "bored. . ." from the sofa. . .

**A/N: I wasn't really sure how to end this one, so I just left it there. I hope you understood that Sherlock had actually completed the Rubix cube, XD. Please drop me a review!**


	14. MJN

**A/N: Ever heard of Cabin Pressure? It's a radio comedy with Benedict Cumberbatch and a few other people – look it up, and listen to it! I think it won an award for the best radio comedy of the year. This one is a sort of cross – over with Cabin Pressure, Sherlock, and features the actor Benedict Cumberbatch. This is a sort of gift to Benedict Cumberbatch, even though I know he will never read it. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D**

**15: MJN**

"What's the airline called, Sherlock?" John asked as he clicked his seat – belt.

Sherlock did the same with his seat – belt. "MJN, stands for 'My Jet Now'. I think we're traveling with an actor as well. That one with the ridiculous name who you think I look like."

"Who? Benedict Cumberbatch?" John smiled at the annoyed expression on Sherlock's face.

"Yes," said Sherlock coldly. As he spoke, the actor that John had mentioned entered the air craft. His hair was smoothed and gelled, and he sat in the opposite seat from the detective and John. Sherlock scowled at the actor as he looked at him, and then stared straight ahead.

There were footsteps, and then the captain appeared, doing the walk around. "Everything in order?" said Captain Martin Crieff, who hadn't actually looked directly at the passengers yet. When he finally did, he stared at the actor, then at Sherlock, with a look of shock on his face. "Good lord. . ." he mumbled, seeing two people, who looked exactly like him, staring back. . .


	15. Creme De Menthe

**A/N: For those who don't know, Creme De Menthe is a bright green, very sweet and mint flavoured alcoholic drink. ALL SUGGESTIONS ARE WELCOME! :D Oh, and sorry about the long wait for this chapter! I know that this doesn't sound like Sherlock or John at all, but it can be quite difficult with these sort of topics.**

**16: Creme De Menthe**

"Sherlock? What's this?"

"What's what?"

"_This_."

"Oh – it is an alcoholic drink, John."

"Is this. . . Creme De Menthe?! Jesus, Sherlock, I didn't think you drank at all, especially not this."

"I haven't had any in a while, since I was about nineteen, I think."

"How can you like this? It's bright green!"

"Isn't it, though! And your point is?"

"It's horrible!"

"No, it's not! I liked it so much, I got drunk on it when I was nineteen!"

"Really, Sherlock? _You_?"

"Well, I would say it helps me think, because it sort of does."

"Just don't drink to much of it tonight, Sherlock. Lestrade might call and give and us a case, and we have to have clear heads -"

"Can I tell you something, John?"

"What?"

"Your lectures really are an excellent cure for insomnia – I think I'll go and have a lay down. . ."


	16. Electricity

**A/N: Sorry about the wait, hope you enjoy this chapter. Please leave me a review and any suggestions you might have!**

**Chapter 17: Electricity**

"Sherlock, must you do this experiment now?"

John frowned at his friend as Sherlock fiddled with some wires.

"It's important, and it won't take long. . ." said the detective distractedly.

John rolled his eyes and left the kitchen, sitting down in one of the armchairs in the living room. He opened a newspaper and had just started reading an article when there was a loud CRACK! from the kitchen.

John leapt to his feet and burst into the kitchen. Sherlock was lying on the floor, his hair standing on end. His eyes were wide and he seemed to have been stunned. Nearby, the wires he had been fiddling with were smoking and crackling with electricity – so was the detective's hair.

John pulled him to his feet and led him to the couch. "Sherlock, are you alright?"

Sherlock was still dazed. A strange expression was on his face, crossed between wonder and giddiness.

He said nothing at first, then: "what an extraordinary feeling. . ."


End file.
